


Words Unread and Words Unsaid

by Dragonbat



Category: Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Bad Poetry, F/M, Teen Angst, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-17
Updated: 2010-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonbat/pseuds/Dragonbat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal shares something with Kel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words Unread and Words Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thanks to Debbie for the beta!
> 
> A/N: This is set during Kel's third year as a page.
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters and settings property of Tamora Pierce. No financial remuneration is being received from this work of fanfiction.

**Words Unread and Words Unsaid**

"Kel?" Neal asked as they trotted back to the pages' wing after supper. "Could you come in for a moment?"

Keladry felt her heart flutter. How could her palms be so cold and yet so sweaty at the same time? "Of course," she said, with Yamani calm, her voice betraying none of her nervousness. She nearly forgot her Yamani calm when he shut the door behind them. "The door is supposed to stay…"

Neal placed his hand flat against the polished wood, holding it shut. "I'd really rather not provide the evening's entertainment for the entire wing, if you don't mind," he said. His tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness that seemed wildly out of character.

Her mouth went dry. Had he guessed her feelings for him? Was he trying to say that he…? "What do you mean?" She asked.

"I wanted to read you something," he said abruptly. Then, "Please?"

He wanted to read to her? "Sure, Nealan," she said, wondering what on earth was going on. It wasn't Sakuyo's feast day—not that the Yamani holidays were observed in Tortall.

She heard a rustling as Neal withdrew a short scroll from his clothespress. He unfurled it, and cleared his throat. "Be honest," he said with a smile that made her heart thud. "I'm strong enough."

_O maid, I've glimpsed thee from afar_

_Thy voice doth mark my dreams_

_Thy face, it haunts my waking hours_

_With no respite, it seems_

Kel was grateful for her years abroad. They kept her from snickering at the last rhyme. She should be kind, she reminded herself. He'd obviously worked hard on this.

_Do I dare hope thy love to gain?_

_Or should I step aside?_

_And spend my days but wishing that_

_Thou'd deign to be my bride?_

Kel suddenly felt a wild hope flare within her. She'd assumed her feelings for Neal were one-sided! But if he was writing poetry, no, if he was actually _sharing_ his poetry, then… She struggled to remain calm. She was only twelve years old, far too young to be thinking of love-stuff. She intended to be at least a squire, preferably a knight, before she went down _that_ route. But it was still wonderful to know…

_I'd thought to ask on bended knee_

_Within a woodland green_

_But let this missive voice my plea:_

He place one hand dramatically on his chest, threw back his head, and exclaimed,

" _Wilt thou be mine, Uline?"_

She felt like she'd just taken a solid buffet from the quintain dummy. "Uline," she repeated. He hadn't been writing this to her at all.

Neal nodded hopefully. "Would you say her alabaster complexion makes her eyes sparkle more? I wanted to put that in, but I couldn't get it to fit the meter."

"Uline," Kel said again. He hadn't written this for her. He'd written it for… Of course, she reminded herself. He was seventeen. At twelve, she was still practically a child to him. She forced a smile. "It's… it's very good."

Neal made a face. "No, it's awful. I can tell from your eyes."

"Neal!" It wasn't _his_ fault that he loved Uline and not her. She had to keep telling herself that. "Neal, you know I haven't a speck of romance in me," she lied heartily. "You'd probably get a better reaction reading your verses to Peachblossom." Her smile felt like it was painted on. "I have to go. If someone comes in and sees us…" And, as humiliating as it might have been for her to be sent home in disgrace because she and Neal had been caught kissing, or worse, it would be infinitely more horrific to be sent home for doing nothing more serious than speaking to a boy with the door closed.

"Wait." Neal brushed past her and opened the door himself. "Nobody's in the hallway," he said with a smile that—for once—didn't make her pulse quicken. "It's safe. And Kel?" His smile widened, and there went her heart rate once more.

"Yes?"

"Thanks for listening. You're a true friend."

And that was all that she would ever be to him. She wanted to shake him, to shriek, to sob, to call him a fool. But all she said was, "You're welcome," and then she turned on her heel and left, closing the door behind her.


End file.
